


Revival

by JJJJ12



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Artificial Intelligence, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Ben is technically dead, But not really because of the REVIVAL world, But you gotta earn it first, Canonical Character Death, Depression, Eventual Smut, F/M, Force Ghost Ben Solo, Friends to Lovers, Futuristic Sex, Futuristic World, Happily Ever After, Heavy Angst, Inspired by Upload (Amazon TV Series), Loneliness, Lonely Ben Solo, Lonely Kylo Ren, Lonely Rey (Star Wars), Minor Character Death, References to Depression, Rey Needs A Hug, Rey is Ben's customer support agent, Sexual Tension, Some Wannabe Utopia BS, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Suicide consideration, Touch-Starved Ben Solo, Touch-Starved Rey, Virtual Reality, except not really, god so much angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:21:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24228742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJJJ12/pseuds/JJJJ12
Summary: Ben Solo didn’t expect to die at age 34. He also didn’t expect to spend the rest of his eternity on Naboo, the digital afterlife created by the R.E.V.I.V.A.L system. In his new home, he now has the free time to do the things he always wanted to do—read, write, go for runs, maybe even learn to sew.Instead, he finds himself falling in love with his Customer Support Specialist, Rey.Except Rey is very much alive and on Earth.Even in death, the universe always finds a way to mess with him.
Relationships: Ben Solo/Rey, Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 51
Kudos: 125





	1. Galactic Industries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends. This is me beginning another story. I am SO excited to bring this to you. A little bit of background—it’s loosely based on the new Amazon show called Upload, which if you have access to, I ABSOLUTELY recommend you watch. While this story does take inspiration from the show, it will differ greatly, so don’t think it’ll create any spoilers. So—check that out!  
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> This story will of course have angst (I mean, what else do I write?) but that angst will most definitely lead to smut and the ever important happily-ever-after.  
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>   
> Some things to keep in mind for this story:  
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> Death will be discussed A LOT. In this world, it’s a whole different concept, but if death upsets you greatly, this may not be the story for you.  
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> That of course brings us to another he most important piece. Yes, Ben is dead. But not really. This world functions differently.  
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> And third, perhaps most importantly, while this does draw thoughts and feelings from the real world, it is of course fiction. There are some societal implications of how this technology works that I will not touch upon. Because again, it’s fiction.  
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> So let’s have some fun!!  
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> Please enjoy :)

_Takodana springs were known for heavy rain showers and hail the size of baseballs. For the three blissful years that Rey lived with Maz Kanata, the older woman’s favorite pastime was to sit on her tiny enclosed porch, knitting away on a sweater or scarf that she would hand off to a person in need._

_“April showers bring May flowers” was what she always used to say, her twinkling eyes and wide smile infectious, “You’ll see. This chaos will bring beauty when it’s over.”_

_Rey loved that Maz was always right. Flooded streets and muddy front lawns would disappear by May 1, leaving nothing by miles of crocuses, daffodils, and tulips in its wake. Maz loved her little flower garden, insisting on weeding and watering every plant until she was too ill to move._

_It wasn’t a surprise, really, that the woman Rey grew to love and admire so much passed in May. No matter how much worse her diagnosis got in April, there was no way she’d go before seeing those flowers bloom one last time._

_Watching Maz’s health deteriorate had been painful for Rey. She knew her foster mother was sick, but not the extent of it. Not until that snowy January morning where Maz had simply told the girl “I’m dying,” before placing a plate of pancakes in front of her hungry form._

_The day before Maz died, Rey sat by her bedside, a vase of freshly picked purple crocuses sitting on the nightstand. Maz had insisted on seeing the flowers, and despite her best efforts, she simply didn’t have the energy to get up. The pair of them just stared out the window of Maz’s bedroom, hypnotized by the blue sky and the bright sun._

_“Are you scared to die?” Rey had asked. At age fourteen, she understood death, but still had never really encountered it. Maz wouldn’t be the first person she cared about to leave, but she would be the first person to pass away._

_The questioned humored Maz, even as she lay dying. “Scared? What would I be scared of?” She hummed and glanced at Rey, a soft smile building on her lips, “Dying is as easy as falling asleep.”_

_Rey accepted her answer and was content to sit in silence, enjoying the company of the woman she loved for one of the last times. But, in typical Maz fashion, she wasn’t finished sharing her wisdom._

_“Besides,” she continued, her voice soft, “Next is the afterlife. Heaven, nirvana, the promise land—whatever you want to call it.” She stopped speaking for a moment, before adding, “Some people believe in reincarnation. The idea that your consciousness will be born into someone or something else after you die. I think that would be quite nice, too.”_

_Rey sniffled, suddenly aware of the tears streaming down her face. She had never really cried before. Not since the tender age of six, when she realized her parents were gone and she was alone._

_“What would you be?” She managed to choke out, her vision blurring from the tears, “If you were reincarnated, what would you want to be?”_

_Maz just smiled, still happy, even on her last day on earth. “I think I’d be a little bumble bee. Then I could still be with my flowers, even when I’m all gone.”_

_Two days later, when Maz was gone and Rey was placed with a new foster family, the bumblebee that landed on her windowsill gave her hope._

_It also gave her purpose._

_-x-x-x-_

Rey adjusted her headset and took a sip from her favorite work mug, unable to help but cringe the minute the cheap coffee hit her tongue. Cheap coffee was the norm for Rey—it always had been—but after getting used to the amazing Keurig their break room used to have, her preferences had changed. Apparently, Galactic Industries had signed a new green pledge, promising to reduce their carbon footprint by 50 percent within the next five years. Those plastic little K-Cups were apparently the first on their list to go.

Now, don’t misunderstand Rey—she loved the environment and would happily support any sort of green initiative. But to switch their underpaid workers to cheap coffee machines was mean.

Especially when their executives still galivanted across the globe on private jets for “business” trips.

If she had any money, she’d be like her desk mate Jannah, and show up to work everyday with iced coffee from some overpriced Coruscant café. Jannah’s drinks always looked so delicious.

Thankfully, Rey’s mind was drawn away from her bitter, lukewarm coffee by the voice coming from her monitor. Within seconds, a new window had appeared on her screen, showing an older gentleman on a golf course. Despite holding a rather expensive golf club, and standing about a foot away from the ball, perched on the tee, ready to be hit, the man was wearing a bath robe.

And slippers.

Rey couldn’t help but giggle. Gial Ackbar, or simply _The Admiral_ as he liked to be called, was one of Rey’s favorite _revivals_ to be a _friend_ for. The man was enjoying his first year in Naboo, after passing away from lung cancer. Since his wife died almost two decades before him, the Admiral was a solo occupant.

Even alone, he seemed happy. Rey knew he spoke to his son, Junior, at least a few times a week, and was frequently having family dinners with his daughter-in-law and two grandchildren.

All while _dead_.

“Kira!” He called again, his wrinkled hand waving his golf club in the air, “I did it again!”

Rey laughed and turned her headset on. “Admiral, this is the third time this week!”

The older man grumbled. “I can’t help it. I wake up and think about that French toast, and then the green meadows, and before I know it, I’m wandering out of my room in my bath robe!”

As the man spoke, Rey knew this would require more than her voice response. From the stand on her desk, she grabbed her VR headset and slipped it on. Within seconds, she stood beside the Admiral, seeing the beauty of Naboo for herself.

“It happens to the best of us, Admiral,” Rey explained, before waving her hand. In the air, about ten outfits appropriate for golfing appeared in catalogue format, all modeled on an avatar version of the Admiral. She pointed to the third one listed, the avatar dressed in a yellow sweater vest and a cute hat, and grinned. “I think this one suits you.”

The Admiral eyed the avatar before nodding in agreement. “I agree! Let’s do that one.”

With a smile, Rey pressed the floating avatar. As the menu disappeared, so too did the Admiral’s original outfit of white terrycloth. Now, the man looked regal, dressed for all eighteen holes. He looked himself up and down and grinned.

“Meena would be so delighted if she could see me now,” He explained, his lips twitching into a sad smile. Then, not missing a beat, he swung at the first tee, the ball flying through the air, “Ahh! Still got it!” He exclaimed.

Rey laughed and offered the Admiral a goodbye before pulling her VR headset off, the green hills of Naboo replaced with the brick and metal surrounding of the Galactic Industries headquarters. She sighed and sipped her coffee, a small headache beating at the back of her head.

With no incoming customer service requests or new revivals, she took a moment to look around the office, ten massive portraits breaking the monotony of the industrial style of the workplace. Each frame sat on a different wall, offering her colleagues just a glimpse at light and color.

And life after death.

All ten portraits represented one of Galactic Industries’ ten places a person could elect to reside in after death. They ranged in style—from the endless coastline and grassy hills of Ahch-To, to the dry heat and beautiful canyons of Pasaana, to the snowy peaks and fields of white of Lothal. Rey was assigned to customer support for Naboo, a beautiful land of lush grasslands and architecture to rival ancient Roman cities.

Or, at least that’s what it had been designed to look like.

About a decade ago, Galactic Industries discovered how to transfer the consciousness of a person into the R.E.V.I.V.A.L. system. Otherwise short for _Reconstructive Earth Virtual Intelligence Visual Augmentation Landscape_.

It was a fancy acronym for a digital world where the consciousness of people who had physically died got to live. But more than just a beautiful place for the dead to enjoy, the R.E.V.I.V.A.L. system also allowed the dead to interact with the living.

It meant that the Admiral, despite succumbing to lung cancer, was still able to talk to his son and watch his grandchildren grow up, albeit virtually. It meant that with the assistance of VR suits, couples split between the real world and the R.E.V.I.V.A.L. world could still be intimate. It meant that death didn’t have to exist anymore. Not really, anyways.

And in their capitalist society, Galactic Industries put a hefty price tag on the opportunity for life after death.

One to the tune of nearly seventy-thousand dollars.

Per person.

Just for a spot. It didn’t include any of the luxury packages or the in-world purchases that revivals would make. For instance, the Admiral’s fancy golf club? His new golfing attire? Well, that didn’t come with his package. Someone was paying for it. In the Admiral’s case, it was his very wealthy attorney son. For others, it was a huge sum they set aside.

Of course, family packages existed, and discounts were offered if you paid ahead or created installment plans.

But R.E.V.I.V.A.L. created a split that was not uncommon to the real world—the rich enjoyed the technology, and the poor?

Well, the poor quite simply died.

Now, the middle class was tasked with saving money for their children to attend college, their retirement plans, and a slot in a R.E.V.I.V.A.L community after death. Families were no longer prepaying for burial lots.

Instead, they pre-purchased slots in their desired world.

“ _Junior, Cilghal, and the kids have spots in Naboo_ ,” The Admiral had told her many months ago, after requesting her help to locate a place for him to play chess, “ _When their time comes, they’ll join me. We’ll be together forever_.”

It was a sweet sentiment.

It also reminded Rey of two things she didn’t have.

Family and money.

She had been working for Galactic Industries for four years and eight months, spending her time as a _friend_ for approximately thirty to fifty revivals. _Friend_ was a polite term for the essentially catch-all role that Rey played. She was a tech support specialist, a customer service representative, a link to the real world, and pretty much anything that a revival could need.

All they had to do was say her name and she’d be there.

Well, for privacy reasons they called her Kira.

And she only worked from eight to six. Then, the night guy came in. Then, the weekend guy.

The revivals she supported would shift occasionally. Sometimes, a revival would want a male _friend_. Sometimes, they didn’t understand her dry humor and wanted someone else. Sometimes, they elected to leave Naboo, wanting to try their hand living in one of the other nine locations (for a hefty sum, of course). And sometimes, sadly, her revivals would run out of money, and would not receive the premium support package they did upon entering the system.

She usually saw two new revivals a week. Like any job, there were revivals she liked more than others. The Admiral was sweet, if not a bit clueless. Mace Windu had a dry sense of humor that Rey liked. He usually only called her to complain about how early breakfast ended. Orson Krennic was one of her least favorite revivals—he usually called her in with fake problems, just wanting an excuse to ogle her.

It was a job. It paid. In four months, at her five-year mark, she’d receive a significant bonus.

At the moment, it was the only thing keeping her going.

“Kira!” a disembodied voice called, jerking Rey’s head towards the computer. An enlarged window showed a familiar woman perched on the end of her bed, two avatars floating in the air. One wore a skin-tight red dress—the other wore a flowy, black number.

“Hello, Amilyn,” Rey replied, watching the woman from the screen. She didn’t always venture into Naboo. It depended on if her presence was necessary. Or if she liked the revival enough. Or, frankly, if she felt like it. “How can I help you?”

Amilyn Holdo, however, was one of her favorite revivals. She had been in Naboo for almost two years and was exceedingly kind to Rey. Unlike most of Rey’s revivals who had foreseen their death, Amilyn died unexpectedly in a cycling accident. Her family had a very difficult decision to make at the time—risk an operation that could save her life but still ultimately end in her death, or immediately begin the R.E.V.I.V.A.L process.

The R.E.V.I.V.A.L. process was sticky business. It didn’t work on dead people. Once a person was dead, their consciousness was gone. The refund team had to deal with issues like that all the time—families wanting refunds for prepaid spots after grandparents died in their sleep or a family member was killed in a car accident on impact.

It wasn’t fun business by any means.

Amilyn’s family, however, made the choice to begin the R.E.V.I.V.A.L. process, choosing to make sure that at least her consciousness would stay alive. In the two years since, she had adjusted quite well, enjoying a split between speaking to her family and friends in the real world, and making new relationships within Naboo.

“Oh, this is so embarrassing!” Amilyn exclaimed, glancing between the dresses with a flush in her cheeks, “You see, I have a date tonight, and well, I haven’t been on a date since before. With my ex-husband. I wanted your opinion on which dress to wear.”

Rey smiled fondly, happy for the woman. R.E.V.I.V.A.L. had created new relationships and in some cases, gave a new definition to everlasting love. Of course, it also broke relationships, as many people attempted to stay with a loved one even after they entered the system, before eventually realizing that such a long-term relationship was not an easy feat.

Of course, Galactic Industries didn’t use _that_ tidbit in the marketing.

“I like the black one!” Rey replied with a smile, “I think it goes best with your hair.”

Amilyn was one of the people that picked their afterlife to try new things. Upon death, she was a blonde. But in Naboo, she rocked lavender hair. In fact, revivals had plenty of freedom. Some even chose to appear as their younger selves.

“Oh, good eye Kira!” Amilyn cried, before waving her hand through the black dress avatar. As soon as she stood up, the black dress replaced the casual blue jeans and sweater she had previously been wearing. “How do I look?” She asked, her voice hesitant, “I can’t believe how nervous I am!”

But Rey smiled as she watched the woman. “Don’t be nervous. I bet it will go wonderfully.”

Amilyn laughed and waved her hand. “Wish me luck!”

The computer window minimized, Amilyn’s once large screen an identical size to nearly forty different blocks on Rey’s computer, all offering a look into what her revivals were currently doing. The Admiral was drinking a cup of tea and reading a book. Orson was arguing with someone in the dining room ( _again_ ). Mace was doing yoga in the garden (well, _that_ was new), and Amilyn had just entered the elevator, a nervous smile on her face.

As the clock ticked away on Rey’s day, a sinking feeling entered her stomach.

It only got worse when Amilyn joined an unfamiliar man for a candlelit picnic in the gazebo, and the Admiral shared a virtual dinner with his grandchildren, and Mace joined a group of men for laughs and poker, and even Orson, a usual asshat, seemed to have a pleasant walk with a female companion.

Rey was jealous of them.

These _dead_ people.

She was alive, and breathing, and free to do whatever she wanted.

But she longed for their lives.

At least they belonged somewhere.

-x-x-x-

That evening, Rey did what she always did. She threw herself into her work. Or rather, her brainstorming. She lived alone with her orange tabby cat Bebe, the animal her only source of company. The cat used to belong to Poe, but when he and Finn moved into a more exclusive building in Coruscant that didn’t allow pets, Rey agreed to adopt the cat.

It was funny too, since Finn had been her roommate before then.

Poe got Finn.

She got the cat.

She missed Finn some days, but others, she was happy she lived alone. There was no one to pretend to care about how her day was or to feign interest about her activities.

Besides, Finn didn’t get _it_.

First, he thought Galactic Industries and R.E.V.I.V.A.L. was just another ploy for the rich to stay in power forever. If they weren’t dying, at least not really, then they weren’t fully removing themselves from power.

(Which wasn’t true of course—it wasn’t like revivals could run for office or run businesses in the real world—some did have YouTube channels and Twitter accounts, but that was its own separate can of worms.)

She didn’t disagree with Finn, not really. But he also didn’t understand the possibilities that R.E.V.I.V.A.L. introduced.

Namely, bringing people back to life.

It was what Rey spent every free moment she had working on. Every evening after work, she stared at data and R.E.V.I.V.A.L. coding, trying to figure out how to reverse the transfer process to bring a person back to life. The biology existed—scientists had been growing organs for literal decades, meaning bodies were a rather easy follow-up. Now, test tube bodies were primed and ready to go, waiting for the perfect way to return the conscious form back to human flesh and bones.

But at the moment, the data didn’t work.

Losing Maz had hurt Rey in a way that even losing her parents hadn’t. The pain was visceral. It still stung, more than a decade after the woman was gone.

Her goal in life was to prevent other people from feeling the same acute sense of loss, especially when it happened prematurely. The goal was not immortality.

Just the opportunity for every person to live a rich, fulfilling life.

So Rey worked, staring until the letters and numbers and symbols blended together.

-x-x-x-

By the time Ben Solo turned twenty-five, the days all sort of started to run together for him. He woke up early to work out, spent nearly ten hours groveling and doing dirty work for Snoke Enterprises, ate dinner alone, went to sleep, and started all over again. Nearly ten years later, that was still the case.

Until that Wednesday evening.

Looking back, he wasn’t sure what compelled him to deviate from his usual routine. Maybe it was because it was his father’s birthday. Maybe it was him listening to that final voicemail that his mother left on his phone before her untimely death.

Maybe it was because after eating dinner in utter silence, it occurred to him that he hadn’t spoken to a single soul the entire day.

That’s what justified his journey to the corner store to buy a six-pack of beer.

And the speeding Lamborghini that rounded a corner and ran him down?

Well, that was probably karma.

Now, he was barely coherent, pain shooting through every inch of his body. The sights around him were blurry, but even in his deteriorating state, he knew commercial fluorescent lights when he saw it. He also thought he was being wheeled around, but maybe he was also just experiencing an earthquake.

“ _Does he have a R.E.V.I.V.A.L. plan_?” a female voice asked. She could have been in front of, behind, or even sitting on Ben. He couldn’t tell.

Another voice responded, this one muffled. “ _He does. But we tried to reach his emergency contacts to see how they wanted us to proceed. Only an Uncle listed. No answer after five tries_.”

“ _What do we do_?” The woman asked, her voice fading with every word that escaped her lips.

Or, maybe it was Ben that was fading.

“ _He’s got two punctured lungs and pretty bad internal bleeding. We can operate, but the odds don’t look great_ ,” The other voice responded, his words mimicking the sound of a person underwater, “ _I say we send him to prep for R.E.V.I.V.A.L.”_

Ben’s eyes drifted closed. He could feel he was close.

It was like sweet relief.

Going home.

He imagined flying on his dad’s airplane, before joining his mother and his childhood dog Chewbacca for lunch in their backyard. He imagined making pasta with his Grandma Padme and listening to stories of the war from his Grandpa Anakin. He imagined dipping his toes in the freezing cold ocean water on the coastline of their beach home, of the massive sandcastles he would build, and Chewbacca would destroy, of the seashell collection that was long ago tossed away, just like the rest of his happy memories.

“ _Agreed. Prep for transmission. We have an okay for R.E.V.I.V.A.L.”_

Moments later, his world went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I hope you enjoyed our first chapter! I realize many of you may have some questions about how the technology works and how this all pans out but that is coming soon :)  
> Let me know what you think! As always, thanks for reading.  
>   
> Check out my website if you want to know more about me and my writing: 
> 
> [jdarcybooks.com](https://www.jdarcybooks.com/)   
> 


	2. Benjamin Solo (Naboo Platinum*)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, got a bit excited. Thank you for the wonderful feedback! I'm happy many of you like where this is going and have watched the show! So, here's me being excited and posting chapter two. 
> 
> Please enjoy!

Thursday mornings were always rough for Rey. Sometimes, with Bebe cuddled into her side, she took Wine Wednesdays a little _too_ seriously, meaning she’d start the day with a raging migraine or a stomachache that she wouldn’t even wish on her worst enemy. But, even on the Thursdays when she hadn’t overindulged on alcohol the evening before, the proximity yet distance to the weekend was always killer.

Her co-workers would discuss _Thirsty Thursdays_ and whatever get-togethers they had for the weeknight, acting as if Friday wasn’t a workday that would still require them to show up at 8am sharp, ready to do their jobs. In her head, Rey knew she’d never go out for drinks on a Thursday, not with another workday the following morning.

But, in reality, it wasn’t like she had ever been invited to drinks by any of her colleagues, anyways.

Sure, she got along with Jannah, but in that typical work friends sort of way. Same with Snap, who was the _friend_ to her revivals during the nighttime. She had never met Klaud or Boolio, the weekend guys, but Mace usually complained to her about their not-so-friendly bedside manner.

Knowing these co-workers—being friendly with them—certainly didn’t mean they were buddies. She and Jannah may have lunch with each other, eating sandwiches in the breakroom while discussing how much of a hardass Larma could be, but that didn’t make them well, _friends_.

On that Thursday morning, she was reminded of her hatred of the day by her headache—this time from a lack of sleep, not a hangover—and the appearance of four co-workers huddled around Jannah’s desk.

Which was covered in gold and silver balloons and sparkly streamers. A giant banner hung on the wall behind their desks, reading “ _HAPPY BIRTHDAY JANNAH”._ On her desk sat the same type of iced coffee she’d bring to work every morning, along with a platter of sugary donuts that were shaped to spell “ _HAPPY BIRTHDAY!_ ”.

Rey hesitantly approached her desk and set her bag on the ground, watching as Jessika hastily moved gift bags and birthday cards from a reusable shopping tote, only relaxing when all the gifts were sitting on Jannah’s still worker-less desk.

“Crap!” Jessika hissed, as one of the streamers tore and fell off the right side of Jannah’s computer monitor, “This is all fucking Nodin’s fault! We told him to move at 7:30 and he insisted on sitting here while we decorated!”

From beside Jessika, Junn squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. “Relax. It looks great. Vi’s been distracting her in the lobby with her dog—it’s a corgi!”

The team around Jessika let out identical “awws”, apparently excited about the prospect of a corgi within the office. Rey gingerly lowered herself to her seat and swallowed, knowing she needed to ask the question on the tip of her tongue.

Even if it was exceedingly stupid, considering the garish decorations on the desk beside her.

“Today is Jannah’s birthday?” Rey asked, hating how small her voice sounded.

She had no idea.

If she had, she may have gotten her a card, or bought her a coffee, or brought in one of the little succulents she was raising from the windowsill in her apartment—

“Yeah! Didn’t you sign the card yesterday?” Junn asked, waving to the absurdly massive envelope resting against one of Jannah’s monitors. “It was in Larma’s office.”

Rey pursed her lips and stared at the card, wondering if it had sparkly balloons or a big birthday cake on it. “No…I—I didn’t know there was a card.”

Jessika took a step away from the desk, seemingly satisfied by its appearance. She glanced at Rey, her face morphing in confusion. “You didn’t? We posted about it in the group chat.”

Suddenly, Rey’s migraine wasn’t alone.

Her stomach was doing nasty flips.

“I…” She cleared her throat and began her usual login process. “I didn’t know there was a group chat.”

Jessika and Junn shared silent looks, clearly trying to figure out how they could respond to the awkward blunder. Now, Rey got to simmer with the reality of the situation—was she purposely excluded, because everyone secretly hated her, or was she mistakenly excluded, because everyone forgot she existed?

She wasn’t sure which reason was worst.

It didn’t matter, especially as Vi led Jannah into the office, and the rest of her co-workers exploded in screams of “ _Happy birthday_!” and “ _There’s the birthday girl_!”. She watched as Jannah hugged Jessika, and Junn, and laughed with Vi, and even shared a fond smile with Larma.

And as they distributed the donuts, Rey stared at the forty or so floating cubes on her screen.

No one seemed to care when Rey had her birthday two weeks ago.

-x-x-x-

The first hour of the workday was brutal for Rey. She sipped her shitty coffee, she watched her coworkers fawn over Jannah, and she politely declined the only donut offered to her—the circular piece that created the bottom part of an exclamation point.

She usually never turned down food. But that morning, her stomach simply couldn’t handle it.

Thankfully, by the time the clock hit 9, there was a dark blinking square on her screen.

It meant she had a new revival.

It meant that someone had just died but planned ahead to ensure that their consciousness would live on forever. Was this person independently rich? Did they have family or friends that loved them enough to pay for them to live in the R.E.V.I.V.A.L. system? Were they joining family in Naboo? Were they the first to go?

Rey took a deep breath and readjusted her headset, hating how the earpieces dug into her ear canal. As she clicked on the floating, empty box, she began the processing portion of her job.

First, she had to create the new revival’s appearance. When they paid for their plan, they would have elected their preference—to look how they did at age 25, or 55, or the day that they died. Really, whatever they wanted. To do so, Rey would be given a catalogue of photos of the person. Using their likeness, she’d craft the person’s appearance, usually fixing any minor imperfections if requested like acne, or unibrows, or lazy eyes.

During that time, their system also processed the memories of the recently deceased person. Revivals retained any memories of their lives when they entered the system, even up until their death. Rey recalled Amilyn describing the pain of having two compound fractures and a tree branch through her midsection.

She shuttered at the thought. Most revivals recalled their deaths with a laugh—some were peaceful, especially for the revivals that were sick and had a chance to give proper goodbyes to the real world—and others were humorous in hindsight, like Orson’s drunken tumble off the balcony of his sixth-story condo.

The memory process was an emotional one for Rey. Sometimes, during the transfer process, she simply had to keep herself busy so she wouldn’t watch. She couldn’t bear to watch the lives that her revivals lived and left, no matter how good or bad. Sometimes, however, she simply couldn’t look away. Sure, paying attention was sometimes handy—knowing that Orson had an abusive father, or that Mace lost his hand in the war, gave her insight into why some of her revivals were the way they were.

But other times, watching for her was like a drug she couldn’t quit. Seeing the Admiral’s last Christmas, when he woke up to his grandchildren performing a puppet show for him, or watching Amilyn hold her niece for the first time, the tiny, pink baby squealing in her arms…

It was a small window in the life that Rey never had but had always wanted.

Only she could manage to live vicariously through dead people.

Dead people who had more people that cared about them in the real world than Rey did.

Or ever had.

With a calming sigh, she mentally prepared herself for the entire process of welcoming a new revival and clicked into her design application. Half her screen populated with photos of the newly deceased man, while the other side listed facts about him, prefilled out at the time of purchase.

Rey blinked as she read the information, not yet even glancing at the photos. Usually, the R.E.V.I.V.A.L. application process was almost treated like a dating profile. Future revivals would fill in their dreams of the afterlife, the things that made them happy, who would live with them, and really anything else that the team at Galactic Industries thought would make a person’s experience in the afterlife even more enjoyable.

In nearly five years at the company, Rey had never seen such a scarcely filled out application.

**_Name:_ ** _Benjamin Organa Solo_

**_Age:_ ** _34 years, six months, and twelve days_

**_Cause of death:_ ** _Blunt force trauma_

**_Career:_ ** _Investment Banking_

**_R.E.V.I.V.A.L. package:_ ** _Naboo Platinum, family package for two*_

**_*CUSTOMER SERVICE NOTE: refund approved for second person; death before R.E.V.I.V.A.L processed_ **

The usual questions that followed—favorite hobbies, your ideal day, colors that made you happy, fondest memories, and nearly fifty more—were left entirely blank.

This Benjamin Solo had done the absolute bare minimum.

And if Rey understood the customer service note left from about three months ago, whoever was meant to join him in Naboo hadn’t made it. Not to mention, considering Benjamin’s age and cause of death, he probably hadn’t been planning on using his R.E.V.I.V.A.L so soon.

Rey pulled her design application forward, staring at the blank model of a man, before glancing to the photo catalogue on the other half of her screen. Her breath lodged in her throat. For a moment, it felt like she couldn’t breathe.

She knew he would be young—his application said so—but to be staring at such a handsome man in his prime made her head dizzy. He had dark brown hair that fell to the middle of his neck, just long enough to cover both of his ears. The hair looked smooth, silky, and based on the soft curl of it, well maintained.

His eyes were a smoky brown, flecks of gold glowing in some of his shots. He had a relatively large nose, but it suited his larger stature. Most stunning to Rey, however, was his clear, pale skin, unmarked by anything but a constellation of beauty marks.

Quickly, practically in a daze, she glanced at the appearance notes of his application. This had been filled out, but based on the language, it didn’t appear to be done by him.

**_Appearance notes:_ ** _Keep the beauty marks. Sometimes he hates them, but they make him who he is. Without them, he wouldn’t be my Ben. But keep his hair long. He doesn’t like his ears. Thinks they’re too big. Clean shaven too—he likes to sport a beard and mustache occasionally, but it makes kissing him uncomfortable!_

Rey frowned, reading the notes over and over again. Whoever had written it knew Ben intimately—enough to love and kiss him whenever. Or, more importantly, enough to purchase spots for the two of them in Naboo.

She wondered if this poor man had unexpectantly lost his wife. Husband. Whoever. Now, he’d start in Naboo alone, instead of with the person he elected to sign an eternal bond with.

Rey sighed and began to filter through the photos, looking at shots of him in suits, and active wear, and—well, that was really it. It looked like this Benjamin Solo was always working. Whether that meant in a suit, sitting in an office, or in a pair of shorts, lifting weights at the gym, he was working.

In certain photographs, his hair was longer. Sometimes, he had a beard. That was really it. In fact, unlike most of her revivals, he didn’t have a whole lot of photographs to pick from, especially after he was…

Well, he was always tall and thick based on the photos, so it was hard to decipher an age, but if Rey had to guess, perhaps age 22. Photos before then included his parents, another gentleman that appeared to be related to him, and a massive fluffy dog that made Rey smile. After that, any photos of Benjamin Solo that had other people in it were work related.

With shaky hands, she sipped her lukewarm coffee, before getting to work. The R.E.V.I.V.A.L processing system took a few hours, and based on when she received his application, Rey knew he’d shortly be ready for his introduction. She’d have to work fast or risk keeping him waiting.

New revivals left to their own volition usually went crazy.

So, she began dragging elements of his photographs to the blank male model in her design app, slowly crafting Benjamin’s face. Per the appearance request, she kept his beauty marks, as well as him clean shaven. The difficult one was the hair, or rather, deciding how long to keep it. Rey couldn’t help but stare at one particular photo of him at what appeared to be a work Christmas party. He stood in front of the Christmas tree with three slimy looking men. There, his hair just barely covered his ears in the front and reached about the middle of his neck in the back.

It was her favorite length on him. With another drag of the mouse, the once blank model shared Benjamin’s likeness. Long hair, big nose, smooth skin with beauty marks scattered about, wide shoulders with muscular arms, thick thighs, tall height—

Well, the list could go on. And Rey could stare at him all day, if she was being honest with herself. Feeling guilty, she clicked confirm, watching as the digital likeness of Benjamin was sent off to be processed, and in its place was his memory drive.

Carefully separated folders differentiated all the memories that Benjamin had arrived with—childhood, college, his career, and everything in between. Based on the folder system, Rey assumed Snap had begun the organizational process that evening, presumably as soon as Benjamin had begun his R.E.V.I.V.A.L.

But as Ben’s process was still ongoing, so were the transfer of some of his memories, including those later in life. Rey watched as some of the scenes of this man’s life appeared before her in 4k resolution.

She watched his hands flail and fist as he spoke to one of the smarmy guys from the Christmas photo she stared at only moments before. She watched as his sneaker-clad feet pounded against the pavement, as muscular arms came in and out of frame during what appeared to be a run. She watched as a portion for one of rice and salmon was placed at the head of a large dining table, before the food was carefully cut into and portioned onto a silver fork.

At first, Rey wondered if something was wrong with the system. If it was broken, or glitching, or if her hard drive needed to be replaced because it was processing the same information over and over again. That was the only reason she could think of for her watching the same images seemingly on repeat.

The same arguing with that slimy man. The same run. The use of the same gym equipment. The same meals, set at an oversized dining room table, consistently eaten alone.

Eventually, Rey realized the system wasn’t broken.

This man just did the same thing every day.

Finally, one memory appeared that was unlike the others. The first half was buffering, causing Rey to miss it, but she did watch the latter half with wide eyes.

“ _What—what do you mean she’s gone_?” the deep voice was shaky, distraught, in fact. Rey could only see the same desk of the man’s office, her eyes locked on the way his right hand shook and clenched. “ _She was healthy—what—what the fuck are you talking about_?”

A disembodied voice spoke, presumably from the speakerphone on Benjamin’s desk. “ _She died in her sleep. I don’t know what to say, Ben. I’m as devastated as you are_.”

“ _Why didn’t they fucking call me_?” Benjamin screamed, the deep timber of his voice thick with devastation, “ _Why do you know before me_?”

The other voice sighed, a sadness evident in every word they spoke. “ _Because I spoke to her on a daily basis. She called you every day, Ben. She was lucky if she heard from you on her birthday and Christmas_.”

Rey watched as the phone monitor was thrown across the office, shattering against the crisp white walls. A sob escaped Benjamin’s mouth, fat tears dripping onto the mahogany desk, before the memories began to buffer again. When they returned, he was back to his routine.

Except this time, Rey thought he ran a little faster. That he added another set of weights to his deadlift. That his arguments with the slimy man were more intense. More violent.

But what did she know? She was just an underpaid Galactic Industries customer support specialist that watched people spend ungodly amounts of money to make sure they never died.

“Wow, what a hottie!” Jannah exclaimed from over Rey’s shoulder. Apparently, the morning celebrations provided her with a little pink sash that read “ _BIRTHDAY GIRL_ ”. She stood over Rey, staring at the processing digital likeness of Benjamin, her smile knowing. “Ugh, I wish I got hot revivals. I had to process four old ladies yesterday _. Four_!”

Rey cleared her throat and fiddled with her coffee mug. “Yeah. He’s handsome.”

Jannah hummed and grabbed Rey’s mouse, clicking through the files. As she read through the provided information, she whistled. “He paid for a platinum package? Hot fucking damn, this dude must have been loaded!”

Rey stared at Jannah’s hand on her mouse, irritation building in her stomach. Usually, she couldn’t care if Jannah, or even Snap, intruded in her workspace. They got along well enough. But on that day, after the birthday fiasco, and for how oddly protective of this Benjamin Solo that Rey felt, she didn’t like it.

But, at the same time, Jannah wasn’t wrong. A platinum package was well…insanely expensive.

The advertised starting price for standard accommodation for one person in all of Galactic’s marketing was approximately seventy-thousand dollars.

Which was true.

Sort of.

That’s how much a standard package in their _least_ luxurious world was.

Tatooine was known for its rather basic styling. It was a warm world, with sprawling fields of sand and sky. It was nice, and most of the revivals in the world absolutely raved about its renowned sunrises and sunsets.

But just like how in life, certain zip codes were known to cause envy and show off wealth, so too were certain R.E.V.I.V.A.L worlds. At the top of the list were Naboo, Bespin, and—well the third spot was up for debate—some people thought Ahch-To, others thought Lothal.

To Rey, it was kind of like comparing people who flew first class to those who paid for private jets.

They were all rich. Why did it matter who was richer?

Besides Tatooine, a standard package in the other nine worlds were significantly more expensive. Then came the Bronze package. Then Silver. Then Gold. Then Diamond. Then Platinum. Different packages meant different sizes and luxury of accommodation, access to support staff, recreational activities, and the list could go on.

This Benjamin Solo was set up for the most privileged of afterlives.

“I guess,” Rey whispered, glancing back at the screen, watching as the process was minutes from completion, “I need to…uh…” Rey motioned to her headset, hoping that Jannah would get the picture and go back to her desk.

Jannah took one last look at the photo and nodded. “Well, good luck with Mr. Hottie. Jessika’s last hot revival hit on her so much that she had to get him transferred to Beau.” With a laugh, she went back to her desk and slid into her seat with a content hum, “But hey, maybe this one will be sweet.”

Rey took a deep breath and ignored her desk mate. She had a job to do.

Seconds later, the starry logo of Galactic Industries appeared on her computer, Benjamin Solo’s customer ID number in its core.

It was time to meet her new revival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our stupid space lovers will finally meet next chapter.... until then, stay safe!
> 
> Let me know what you think! As always, thanks for reading.  
>   
> Check out my website if you want to know more about me and my writing: 
> 
> [jdarcybooks.com](https://www.jdarcybooks.com/)   
> 


	3. Sweet Dreams (Beautiful Nightmare)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Thanks to everyone who's been reading this story. I'm super excited about it and glad that some of you are fans of the show or genuinely interested in the concept. It's definitely not what I'm used to writing, but it's been so fun so far. So, please enjoy the next update!

_“I don’t want to go to sleep!” He cried, fat tears streaming down his chubby cheeks, “I want to stay up with you, daddy!”_

_His dad just chuckled and brushed away some of the dark locks that fell into Ben’s eyes. The older man was tired—the dark circles under his eyes made that clearly evident—but five-year-old Ben simply didn’t care. He didn’t want to sleep. Not if it meant spending less time with his father._

_“Good things happen when we sleep, kid,” He explained, his voice soft as he tucked Ben in, “We dream of a world better than we could ever imagine.”_

_Ben’s eyes fluttered shut, sleep taking over. “But I’m not tired, daddy.”_

_But his dad just laughed again and pressed a kiss to his head. “Go to sleep. When you wake up, things will make sense.”_

_Little Ben wanted to put up a fight—he really did—but instead he fell right asleep._

“ _Benjamin. Can you hear me_?”

Something wasn’t right. Ben didn’t feel like himself. He was floating. Or underwater. He wasn’t sure. But he felt weightless, like he was just moving through the universe without purpose. Or direction.

Or control.

“ _Benjamin, I want you to think about yourself. Think about what makes you, well, you. Your hair. Your hands. Your voice. Think about how smart you are. How funny you are_.”

He was falling now, descending through darkness with no end in sight. But he listened to the disembodied voice.

He thought of his Ivy League degrees. The dry sense of humor he got from his father. His hair that he took painstaking care of. His hands and feet that were still just a bit too big for his body.

“ _That’s perfect, Benjamin. Now think about the easy things. The alphabet. A, B, C, D, E, F, G—you got the rest, don’t you?”_

He did. It was like the remaining letters were floating around him, a shimmery “H” appearing in the darkness of his surroundings.

“ _Now count with me. 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3—”_

He was plummeting now. Things were going too fast. There was light though—he could see it—he could _feel_ it.

“2, 1—” He choked out.

Ben opened his eyes. He was sitting in a lounge chair, one of two in a rather modern looking space. A hotel room, if he had to guess, based on the living room and bedroom combination that was lacking a kitchen. The accommodation was the sort he was used to during business travel. Something he easily could get at the Ritz or the Four Seasons.

The color scheme was neutral, with mostly everything in black and white. Nothing gaudy, or over the top.

It was modern, sleek, and elegant.

He gingerly rose to his feet, his stomach still in knots.

“I don’t feel so good,” He explained, to the empty room. He took a few staggered steps forward, struggling to remember how to walk.

“That’s quite normal.” A disembodied voice explained, the feminine lilt sending shivers down his spine, “You should sit down while you adjust. You’re probably queasy. We call that the _revival rumbles_.”

Ben looked frantically around the room, his confusion written clearly across his face. “Who are you? What’s going on?”

“I’m your new _friend_ ,” the voice explained, her soft-spoken words like a melody in his ears, “You may call me Kira.”

Ben took another shaky step forward, his mind going far too quickly for him to formulate all the necessary words. “Where am I? I need to speak to someone who’s going to tell me what the _fuck_ is going on!”

The sweet voice seemed to sigh. “Benjamin, I—”

“It’s just Ben,” He spat out, interrupting her response.

The voice, or rather Kira, unperturbed, continued. “Ben, I’m sure you have many questions. For now, I recommend taking a seat. The R.E.V.I.V.A.L process affects everybody a little differently.”

Ben felt woozy. He took a few steps to the windows in his room. With shaky hands, he opened the curtains. The world outside him was unlike anything he had ever seen before. Luscious fields of green, towering waterfalls of sparking blue, endless villa-like structures sitting on grassy cliffs…

“That’s Naboo.” Kira explained, as Ben stared on, mouth agape. It was nothing like the concrete streets of Coruscant, his home for all thirty-four years of his life, “Welcome to your new home.”

He was struggling to process the words he was hearing. But things started to click in his head.

_R.E.V.I.V.A.L._

_Naboo._

“No,” he choked out, the dots finally connecting.

He was dead.

That fucking lime green Lamborghini _killed_ him.

Death, however, he could accept.

But this artificial life?

He didn’t want this.

He never did.

“I’m dead,” He spat out, before stepping away from the windows on what felt like wooden legs, “Let me fucking die!”

Kira spoke again, this time losing a bit of her professional edge. “Ben, is Naboo not to your liking?”

“Fuck this!” He shrieked, pacing around in the room, “I didn’t fucking ask for any of this!”

She seemed to sigh again. “Would you like to see your receipt, Mr. Solo? Your application was submitted, processed, and paid in full for a R.E.V.I.V.A.L in Naboo approximately five years ago. If this accommodation, Naboo, or my service is not to your liking, please advise me on how I can better the situation.”

He just shook his head furiously, burying the painful memory deep. “No, no, I want to fucking die—”

“Excellent suggestion, sir!” Kira exclaimed, interrupting his screams, “A nice nap will certainly help you adjust to your new home.”

“YOU CAN’T MAKE ME FUCKING NAP—”

Yet somehow, in seconds, he was tucked into bed, fast asleep.

_“We need to talk about the future.” His mother had explained to him one afternoon, while the pair shared brunch at one of her favorite local restaurants._

_Ben, who was in the middle of a sip of espresso, managed to contain his snort. “The future? As in?”_

_“Our inevitable deaths.” Oh, how straightforward his mother was. Now he knew where he got it from._

_“I see. You have a will drawn up, don’t you?” He didn’t even know why he was asking. He knew she did. He helped her find the lawyer._

_His mother waved her hand. “Yes, yes, of course. I more of meant what to do after death.”_

_Ben pursed his lips and dug into his salad. “I thought we had a burial plot already. Where grandma and grandpa are buried.”_

_And dad, he thought, but he didn’t think his mother would be able to stomach discussing his father. It had been nearly seven years ago since his death, but it wasn’t something they discussed frequently._

_Or, ever, really._

_“We do, we do,” His mother explained. She paused as she grabbed her handbag, digging through the Italian leather before producing a pile of pamphlets, “But I had something else in mind.”_

_Ben stared at the stack of brochures, immediately recognizing the Galactic Industries logo, and the massive font._

**_R.E.V.I.V.A.L_ **

_It was all anyone had talked about for the past five years. Life after death. The first year the system had been introduced, it caused some controversy, especially from the very religious types. But by year two (and a few well-known celebrities and famous people signing on), it was indoctrinated into the public eye._

_For anyone who could afford it, of course._

_But with the Skywalker-Organa trust fund, there was nothing Ben and his family couldn’t afford._

_R.E.V.I.V.A.L included._

_“Really?” He found himself asking, using one finger to poke at the pamphlets. Different landscapes greeted him—seas of blue, fields of green, and lush hills of snowy white sparkles. There were more options than he thought. “I didn’t think this was something you’d be interested in.”_

_His mother smiled sadly, watching Ben with loving eyes. “I’ve just realized how short life can be. If there’s a way for us to still be with each other, even when death creeps in, I would hate not to take advantage of it.” She hummed and added a teaspoon of sugar to her tea, looking thoughtful, before adding, “It sounded so inhumane at first, so unnatural. But now that I see how it works, and my friends have loved ones who have done it, I’ve come around to the idea.”_

_Ben cleared his throat and nodded. “What exactly are you suggesting?”_

_She grinned and reached across the table, grabbing his hand. “Well, I’d like to buy us a family package. We’ll be all set up for R.E.V.I.V.A.L when the time comes. And,” She paused, a smirk growing on her lips, “We can extend the package when you finally find the right lady for you. Then, we’ll all live on together forever.”_

_It was an unnerving thought—forever—but he knew how the system worked. If it existed before his father died, they could be video chatting him at that moment. He wouldn’t be physically with them, no, but he’d probably be sipping a glass of scotch and watching a baseball game, all while chatting with his family._

_Just the thought was enough to have Ben on board._

_“And Luke?” he couldn’t help but ask, thinking of his mother’s twin, “Have you talked to him?”_

_His mother laughed and waved her hand. “He’s going to be a bit harder to come around. But when he does, he’ll probably be with us.”_

_An eternity with Luke. Not ideal, but livable._

_Ben glanced back at the pamphlets. “Did you have a world in mind?”_

_With a hum, she produced the top brochure. “Now, let me know if you disagree, but I quite like Naboo. It reminds me of the Italian countryside. Like where your grandparents lived before they died.”_

_He was taken by the beautiful towns, the clear blue water, and the luscious green trees. He could see himself living there when he was old and dead and finally had a chance to appreciate the beauty of the world._

_“Yeah, okay,” he found himself saying, looking back at his mother, “Let’s do it.”_

_His mother squeezed his hand and grinned. “I’ll take care of everything, Benny.”_

When he opened his eyes, the unfamiliar room was dark. Only the soft moonlight from his window offered any sort of illumination. Ben was dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, something he’d probably never wear back home, and tucked haphazardly under a thick black comforter.

He sat up, staring at the full moon outside.

The memory of his mother was heavy on his chest.

This was all her idea and she wasn’t even here with him.

Ben rubbed at his face, unable to hold in his sobs. When she died, he mostly forgot about the entire process. His own mortality was something that rarely occurred to him—he was young, rich, and healthy. Death was supposed to be _years_ away.

Instead, he was dead before his thirty-fifth birthday, living forever in a world that was meant to house the two people he would love the most—his mother, and his future wife.

Well, his mother was gone.

And he never did find that wife.

“Kira.” He found himself choking out, thinking back to the voice before, hot tears streaming down his face, “How do I get out of this? I really rather be dead.”

There was silence for a few moments, before her disembodied voice spoke. “It will get better,” She explained, her voice soft, “It’s always hard the first few days. It’ll take some adjusting.”

“I don’t want to adjust,” Ben spat out, before wiping at his tears, “What I want is to be dead. There has to be a way!”

“I’m sorry, Ben,” She explained, “You’ll really love Naboo. I promise. You’ll have to check out the waterfalls—there are some amazing hiking trails and—”

Ben sat up, shoving the comforter off his body. “FUCK THE WATERFALLS!” He screamed, his face growing hot with anger, “I want to be fucking dead!”

The room went silence. For a moment, Ben thought Kira wouldn’t respond.

“I have to be honest with you, Ben,” She said, her voice sad, “I’ve never had someone request to be dead before. Usually, on day one, people are either excited to explore or desperate to return to their lives before this. Never just…death.”

Ben let out a bark of laughter, hot tears still streaming down his face. “Well, aren’t I a fucking anomaly then!”

This time, when Kira spoke, she sounded… _angry_. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but certainly not _that_.

“Now you listen to me, _Ben_ ,” She exclaimed, her voice laced with frustration, “You had either the means to afford this or someone who loved you enough to set this up. Either way, you are so beyond lucky to be here. There are millions of people who would do _anything_ to reserve the spot you currently hold. So, stop being an ignorant asshole, have a bloody drink, and get on with enjoying the beautiful sights of Naboo!”

Ben froze, suddenly unable to move. Her words made his blood run cold. It was a long time since he had been chastised. Not since his mother died.

Unable to speak, practically paralyzed in shock, he just laid back on the bed, staring out the window at the stars in the sky and the glowing moon. It must have been at least twenty minutes before he finally found the ability to speak again.

“Kira,” He began, his face tight from the dried tears, “what do I do now?”

A moment passed. He held his breath, concerned she wouldn’t respond.

And she didn’t.

This time, a male voice did.

“Hi Ben,” The man spoke, his voice deeper and colder than Rey’s, “I’m Wex. I’m your _friend_ during the night hours. Kira will be back in the morning. As for what you can do, may I suggest a walk on the premises? We have a gorgeous flower garden that residents love. If long walks aren’t your thing, consider a swim in the brisk—”

Ben closed his eyes.

Maybe this was all a bad dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, I know, the angst is real. The story won't be this dark going forward--it's just a bit heavy right now as Ben is introduced to the world. Once he settles, it won't be so bad! I absolutely love writing this story and actually have a lot written, so I do hope you enjoy it! And thanks to those who have already left some very kind words!
> 
> As always, thank you for reading, and let me know what you think!  
>    
> Check out my website if you want to know more about me and my writing: 
> 
> [jdarcybooks.com](https://www.jdarcybooks.com/)  
> 


	4. The Welcome Orientation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes, my bad for the long break in between chapters! I hope this makes up for it. PS: next chapter is finished, so we'll get that up soon :)  
>   
> My Tumblr: [jj-jj-12](https://jj-jj-12.tumblr.com/)  
>   
> 

Rey’s interaction with her new revival stayed on her brain the entire night. From the walk to the subway, to the dirty underground train, to the walk to her dingy apartment, she couldn’t stop thinking about the desperation in his voice. She was honest with him too. In nearly five years on the job, no revival had simply requested death. That went against the entire purpose of the process.

R.E.V.I.V.A.L was meant to _prevent_ death. It was meant to prolong life, especially when nature or man decided to end it. New revivals usually arrived jittery, disoriented, and scared, especially those that died unexpectantly. For someone who was sick, anticipating their death with open arms, waking up in their R.E.V.I.V.A.L world was like Christmas morning.

But for those that had simply decided to cross a busy intersection to get to work and later woke up in the R.E.V.I.V.A.L system, it could certainly be disheartening. Rey and her fellow customer service specialists were prepared for that.

Because the first and most frequently asked question after “Where am I?” was always “How do I go back?”. It was never easy to hear or to answer. It was a struggle every single time. People cried and screamed and begged to return to their former lives. To go back to their loved ones, and pets, and dream jobs, and lifelong homes.

Yet, Ben Solo, for some reason, had no interest in returning to his life. He hadn’t cried at a life lost or cut short.

He cried because his death hadn’t, well, _killed_ him.

And in a moment of weakness, Rey lashed out. She couldn’t help it. She’d probably be written up, or removed as his _friend_ , but she had to say what was on her mind. Millions of people around the world would die for the opportunity to be in his shoes.

Rey would do _anything_ to have Maz just one phone call away—to slip into a VR suit and hug her, getting the chance to smell her rose-scented perfume one last time. But R.E.V.I.V.A.L hadn’t existed when Maz died.

Even if it had, it wasn’t like the woman could have afforded it.

The little bit of money she had was left to Rey. Thinking back to the call from the public attorney still made her heart skip. But despite Maz’s hard work for most of her life, the money wasn’t much. It paid for Rey’s first year of college.

Her other three years were paid for with loans.

Rey sighed and entered the Galactic Industries building, her mind on overdrive. She bet Ben Solo didn’t have to take out loans to attend college. She remembered seeing the Harvard diploma in the memories of his office.

With a Platinum Package in Naboo, Ben Solo most likely never worried about money in his thirty-four years of life.

She could only dream of what that was like.

Shaking her head, she strolled to her desk, her eyes zeroing in on Snap, who still sat at her desk. That was fine—it wasn’t technically 8—but it was more of what he was doing. Or rather, the crumbs and bit of breakfast burrito that he was spilling all over her keyboard.

She cleared her throat. “Snap? Do you mind?” She motioned to her keyboard, irritation coloring her features.

Snap rolled his eyes and took a napkin from him pocket, one that from the looks of it had previously been used to clean up spilled coffee. He quickly brushed the crumbs off and looked to her for approval. “Better?”

“Not really. Now you’ve just lodged the crumbs under the keys,” But Rey shook her head and dropped her bag to the ground. “Forget about it. I’ll get one of those spray can things from IT.”

He shrugged, appeased by her words, before glancing at his screen. There seemed to be little activity—even in the afterlife, people didn’t like waking up early. The one exception, based on the limited movement Rey could see on the screen, was the Admiral, who appeared to be heading down for a breakfast of his favorite French Toast. At least this time, he appeared to be wearing real clothes instead of his robe.

Snap hummed as he began to click through his clocking out process, clearly excited to be done with the day. Once he had successfully logged out and stood up, he looked to Rey. “Just an FYI. Your new guy, Solo, hasn’t received his proper introduction. When I took over yesterday, he just went back to sleep. He’s going to be hungry and pissy when he wakes up. You just watch.”

She sighed and sat in the recently abandoned chair, cringing at the warmth from eight hours of Snap’s ass. “Great. Thanks for the heads up.”

He waved his hand and walked off, not a care in the world. Sometimes, she wished she was like Snap. He was the type of person who didn’t care about his career or his accomplishments. The only thing that mattered was clocking out and returning to his shitty apartment to watch Netflix.

Maybe, if Rey didn’t have ridiculous goals and dreams for herself, she could live in similar ignorant bliss. A life that didn’t require her to obsess about her work performance or if she was due for a promotion or if she’d ever escape the customer service chair and make her way to the programming side, just as she had always dreamed.

But before that could happen, she had a day job to excel at. Something had to pay her many bills and student loans.

Thankfully, the morning was off to a slow start. Most of her revivals were asleep or lounging about. In fact, besides the Admiral eating breakfast, and Amilyn doing yoga in one of the rose gardens, everyone else seemed to be asleep. It gave her a moment to breathe and enjoy her morning cup of tea. Some mornings were like this—overwhelming quiet. Others were hectic, filled with complaints from revivals or multiple new arrivals at once.

Rey was going to cherish this silence all she could.

And she did until her newest revival showed activity, about an hour and a half into her shift. He sat up on his bed, his dark hair askew, his eyes wide. He seemed to take in his surroundings, although with his curtains closed, he was shrouded in darkness. Rey figured she’d do him a favor, and with one press of her data pad, the curtains in his room flew open. Now, he could adjust to the sunlight and the gorgeous Naboo scenery.

It was certainly an upgrade to the concrete jungle living outside of the few windows on her floor.

Her dead revivals got more sunlight than she did.

Rey gave Benjamin—actually, Ben, as he corrected her yesterday—a few minutes before she started speaking. He looked erratic, and she really didn’t want to scare him. When he finally climbed out of bed and strolled to the wall of windows, staring out into the scenery, she decided it was safe to speak.

“Good morning, Ben,” She began, using her best customer service voice, “I hope your first night of sleep in Naboo was restful.”

At her voice, Ben seemed to tense. Not wasting a moment, Rey clicked his square so it filled up her screen. Now, she could look at his handsome and sleepy face on a full 27 inches of 4K quality screen. Maybe it was wrong to find him attractive, but Rey had so little in her life. She could find him cute in the same way baristas had cute regulars.

She should know, since she worked at a coffee shop to get herself through college.

Ben ran a hand through his hair, sending his messy locks in twenty different directions. He glanced around the room. “You’re back.” He said aloud, his eyes clearly surprised. “You disappeared last night.”

“You have a different _friend_ at night, as you will during the weekends. I hope you enjoyed getting to know Sn—Wex. He’s wonderful.”

He looked around his room. “You’re a real person.”

It wasn’t a question. Rey cleared her throat. “I’m here to help—”

“I wasn’t sure if you were a revival, or AI, or whatever. But you must be real.”

Rey _really_ was not supposed to confirm nor deny that she was in fact a real person, but she felt for Ben. She sighed and leaned onto her hand, still staring at the screen. “I am.”

Ben nodded slowly, seeming to digest her words. “Where do you live?”

Now _that_ she couldn’t indulge him on. Especially since he hadn’t been given his welcome protocol yet, at least according to Snap.

“Ben, I’d like to go through your welcome protocol to better orient you with your new environment. Would that be alright?”

Ben sat on the edge of his bed and just shrugged.

Rey sighed and sipped her tea. She wouldn’t get frustrated. She needed to remember what this man was going through. And even if she saw his life—his existence after death—as superior to her own pathetic life in the real world, he clearly didn’t feel the same.

“Ben, welcome to Naboo. With your Platinum Package, you are residing in the Moeania Residences, the premiere facility in Naboo. I do hope you find your room to your liking. Included in your package are three meals a day, including breakfast. For a small fee, Galactic Industries would be delighted to add a kitchen to your living accommodation.”

He just stared forward, a look of indifference painted across his features. So, Rey was admittedly surprised when he started asking questions. “Including breakfast? Does that mean not everyone has it?”

“Only packages gold and up include breakfast. Packages below gold only include two meals a day, or if desired, less than that. Some revivals prefer to cook for themselves for pleasure or as a means to save money. Others prefer the resort atmosphere of having all their meals crafted for them.”

Rey could only wish for someone to make food for her. As she watched dead people eat filet mignon and lobster on a daily basis, she survived entirely on instant ramen, peanut butter sandwiches, and the few pieces of fruit that Galactic Industries would fill the kitchen with in a lazy attempt to promote healthy eating.

Ben nodded dumbly and pointed to the far wall, where his flat-screen television hung nestled between a pair of bookshelves. Below the TV sat a minifridge. “What’s in there then?”

With a touch of her data pad, the options on the minifridge came to life. Pages and pages of different snacks, fast food goodies, and small meals were available to Ben with a press of a button (and for a small fee, of course). Ben stared at the floating options. She had plenty of past revivals glow with the prospect of endless Cheetos or chocolate chip cookies or a beloved regional favorite like an In-N-Out cheeseburger at their fingertips.

Ben just looked… indifferent.

“Why would anyone think a dead person would want Burger King in the afterlife?” He remarked, watching as the options continued to rotate around him, “Or a fucking Twinkie for that matter.”

Rey cleared her throat. “Well, Ben, we have approximately three-hundred thousand residents in Naboo, and millions more across the R.E.V.I.V.A.L system. Some are excited by the prospect of a Whopper or a Twinkie.”

Ben looked away from the snack options, clearly finished with the introduction on food. Rey quickly removed the floating options and took a deep breath. She needed to keep her patience if she was to get through her orientation.

“All meals are served in the dining room, although you may elect to have food delivered to your room. For more information on meal timetables or dining options, please visit the concierge on the ground level or utilize your wrist band.”

“Can’t I ask you?”

His question surprised her. “I’m available for whatever you need, Ben, but usually it’s easiest for you to—”

He just sighed and looked at the black band around his left wrist. “So, what exactly is this?”

Rey was getting to that. Of course, he couldn’t wait. “Well, your wrist band is your most important tool in Naboo. Consider it a smart phone of sorts. It holds information about the world such as maps, dining times, store directories, room directories for your fellow revivals, and the list goes on. It’s also a clothing tool. Should you find yourself on the go and needing a change of clothes, your wrist band will take care of that.”

She paused to take a sip of her tea and waited to see if Ben would interject with any questions. When he didn’t, she continued. “But, most importantly, your wrist band will function as your communication device while apart from other revivals and of course, any friends or family back home. Think of it as your futuristic smart phone that you never have to worry about losing.”

Ben didn’t look impressed. Not in the slightest.

“One of the first things I recommend all of my new revivals do is reach out to someone you miss in the real world. That can be family, or friends, or a co-worker, or a neighbor—”

“I don’t want to do that.”

The severity in his tone shouldn’t have surprised her, but it did. She frowned and stared at the screen, studying his empty features. She had literally seen his life—his memories—but she still wondered what hurt him so terribly. Something had made Ben Solo miserable, and she couldn’t help but wonder what it was.

She took another deep breath. “When you’re ready, go explore. I think you’ll come to love Naboo’s natural beauty. There’s something for everyone. Catch a movie—new or old—at the local cinema. Read one of the thirty million books in the library. Go on a hike. Go for a swim. Take a yoga class. Join an intermural sports team.” She smiled fondly, thinking of the possibilities. “The world is your oyster.”

Ben remained sitting on his bed, his eyes locked on the windows overlooking the gorgeous Naboo scenery. He just laughed, the sound bitter to her ears. “The world? No. I don’t exist in the world. What I have is a video game at my fingertips. Like the fucking _Sims_.”

She frowned, staring at him through the screen. “Then go live it, Ben.”

When he didn’t move, she found herself unable to quit away either. She had plenty of revivals to check on, but given his current state, she didn’t feel she could leave him alone. Just when she prepared to launch herself into another speech about the splendors of Naboo and all the things he could do, his deep voice tickled the earbuds nestled in her ears.

“I can do breakfast.”

Rey grinned. It was the best thing he said to her since their first interaction. Actually, it was probably the only pleasant thing he had ever said. It wasn’t much either—just the promise to grab food—but hopefully breakfast would open up his mind to his new life.

It would give him the opportunity to explore his building, try out the food, and most importantly, meet new people.

“I’m glad to hear that Ben. To reach the dining room, exit your room and take the elevator down to the first floor. The main dining room will be to the right of the concierge, but there will be signs and staff to guide you should you get lost, as well as maps on your wrist band.”

He nodded and finally stood up. He still had his look of indifference, but it seemed they were making progress. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, Ben. Is that all for now?”

He rubbed at his neck. “Yeah.”

“Okay, Ben. I will speak to you—”

“Kira?”

Rey stared at the screen, enamored with his big, brown eyes. “Yes, Ben?”

“What time do you leave every day?”

Briefly, she wondered if that was information she could provide, but realistically, she knew he could figure it out on his own if he so desired. “I clock out around 6, Ben.”

He just nodded. Rey watched as he moved towards his bathroom, presumably to get ready. Before he crossed the threshold, he paused and looked to the ceiling, as if Rey was hovering over him. She wanted to giggle.

“Goodbye, Kira.”

Rey smiled softly. “Goodbye, Ben.”

As soon as he entered the bathroom, his privacy filter went up, coating his square in a deep grey. Rey minimized the box and glanced at the rest of her revivals. Mace was watching TV in his room, Amilyn was having coffee with two revivals, Orson was arguing with an AI cleaning person—

It was business as usual.

Rey took a sip from her tea and leaned back in her chair, shutting her eyes for a brief moment. On the surface, things were normal.

But for some reason, Rey couldn’t kick the feeling that something important had changed.

It was probably just her skipping breakfast again.

Hell, maybe one day she’d be able to afford eating the first meal of the day.

She could only wish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, I know, so much information to take in, but I want to give everyone (and Ben!) an idea of how the Revival world works. No worries, things start getting juicy next chapter (and it's written and ready to go!). Someone did ask if they will see their "friends" and yes, they absolutely will! Rey and her co-workers decide when they want to just use their voice or make a physical appearance. Obviously, we'll see Rey eventually face to face with sad boi Ben ;)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading and let me know what you think! :)
> 
> Check out my website if you want to know more about me and my writing: 
> 
> [jdarcybooks.com](https://www.jdarcybooks.com/)   
> 


	5. Starkiller

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Tumblr: [jj-jj-12](https://jj-jj-12.tumblr.com/)  
> 

With tired footsteps, Ben followed Kira’s directions to the main lobby of his building. Even in the afterlife, the elevator ride was exhausting with an overly friendly elevator operator with brown hair and a funny uniform attempting to make small talk all the way down. Given his continued state of shock, Ben barely paid attention to the song the elevator was playing or what the man was saying, but he could have sworn there were fifteen-thousand floors in the building.

It shouldn’t have surprised him, given that he was in room 13505. The place was massive, and since he had yet to see outside of his room, he had no idea what the rest of his…

Well, his new home looked like.

The elevator dinged, and the operator waved him along, the doors opening to show nothing short of a lavish, modern, luxury resort. The exact place Ben had stayed in before. If he closed his eyes, pinched himself hard enough, maybe pretended to listen to Snoke on the other line of his cell phone, he’d think he was on a business trip in Canto Bight. Or Cloud City. Or Zeltros.

People roamed about, some young, some old, and some clearly artificial intelligence. Ben had to blink a few times, especially as he realized the same man who was his elevator operator was the man behind the concierge desk. And the man at the front desk. And the man delivering a tray of drinks to a table of residents.

In fact, besides the AI staff, the place looked…

Normal. Old men were dressed for a round of golf. Couples strolled in, hand in hand, holding shopping bags from high-end stores that existed in the real world. Residents asked the concierge questions or complained about their experience.

He could almost pretend he wasn’t dead.

With a sigh, he followed a sign towards the dining room, recounting Kira’s explanation about the food. The thought of not cooking for himself was unsettling, and had him considering if he should request an upgrade to get himself a larger kitchen than the one Kira demonstrated with the press of a button. He knew the mini-bar would be dangerous too—he wasn’t exactly a snack person, but the sight of some of the things he used to share with his dad after a long drive down the freeway made his stomach flip. He had never craved a bag of Cheetos before in his life.

But, he wasn’t really hungry as he entered the dining room. He could barely process where he was, let alone that he needed to eat, so food was the last thing on his mind.

That was, of course, until he saw the breakfast spread. Usually, buffets did nothing for him. He’d rather eat instant ramen than catch himself grabbing a plate and eating fried shrimp or doughy pizza or whatever it was that those types of facilities served.

Yet, on a white-table cloth clad buffet was a spread so rich and delicious that even his mouth was watering. From an omelet stand run by another one of the friendly brown-haired elevator operator men, to tiers of petite tea cakes and pastries that looked straight out of a French patisserie, to a selection of breakfast meats so diverse and delectable that Ben could practically _hear_ his mother scold his father from eating any, he was in shock.

What was meant to simply be a tour of the grounds turned into the first time Ben planned on eating anything besides steel cut oats for breakfast in nearly a decade. On stiff feet, he stumbled over to the end of the table and grabbed one of the fine, white China plates, before gingerly beginning to pile food on his plate. He wasn’t sure where to start.

He hadn’t had a donut, or a slice of bacon, or even an egg yolk in…

Well, long enough that he couldn’t remember.

Minute by minute the plate filled up with things he used to dream of eating—chocolate frosted donuts with sprinkles, thick cut bacon with crispy edges, breakfast potatoes fried a golden brown, pieces of watermelon and strawberries so pink and ripe that the juice practically oozed out of them—

And as he grabbed the tongs to finish off his plate with a thick, juicy sausage link, the table in front of him cleared. He blinked a few times, trying to register what he just saw, until glancing at his plate.

The very white, very _empty_ porcelain practically laughed at him.

“What the fuck?” He choked out, glancing around the dining room, wondering where the hell the massive, delicious spread of food had gone. He was so close to his fill of greasy and sugary goodness and now it had just _vanished_?

As he prepared to lash out, preferably by throwing the plate to the elegant marble floor of the room, a man’s voice distracted him.

“You must be new here,” The man said, a smirk growing on his lips, “It took me two fucking weeks before I got to breakfast on time. What type of motherfuckers end breakfast at 10am? Isn’t this supposed to be fucking heaven?”

Ben stared at the man, taking in his dark skin, shaved head, and brown leather jacket. He cleared his throat and set the plate down, figuring throwing a tantrum wouldn’t be the best way to meet people on his first full day. “Yeah, it is fucking dumb,” Ben said instead, “I didn’t even know there was a cut-off time.”

The man just laughed. “Kid, even in the afterlife there’s structure and schedule. These motherfuckers have to save money somehow.”

Maybe it was his knowing smirk, or the brown leather jacket, or the way the word “Kid” left his lips so affectionately, but Ben was immediately comforted by the man. “Kid?” Ben couldn’t help but ask, eying the man curiously, “You can’t be what, ten years older than me?”

His new friend smirked. “Sure, sure. I picked a cool forty-two for my revival age. But I died when I was _ninety-five_.”

Ben blinked, registering his words. “You—what? You can do that?”

“Let’s sit and chat. It seems you have a lot to learn.” Ben nodded dumbly and followed the man into the dining room, stopping abruptly as the man did too. He turned to Ben. “You still hungry?”

Even though Ben’s intention was never even to eat, after seeing the spread appear to only have it vanish did have him feeling ravenous. “Uh, yeah. Do I—”

The words died on his lips as the man whistled for one of the dining room staff, the same brunette-man who seemed to be _everywhere_. “Mitaka,” the man barked, lashing forward with enough aggression that the AI jumped back, fear evident in his features, “Get us some food. And hurry up, motherfucker!”

Ben watched, wide eyed, as the AI man, or Mitaka apparently, scampered off. His new friend merely laughed and waved Ben over to a table for two by a set of massive floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the city center of Naboo. He took a moment to stare at the green peaks and stunning architecture, before looking back to the man.

“Why do all the staff look the same?” He found himself asking, thinking back to the same kind face of virtually every position in the building.

His new friend shrugged. “Hell, if I know. His name is Mitaka. He’s nice enough, but I’ve figured out how to get what I want. If you scare him, he’ll get you whatever. The bar says its last call? Not if you lift the little prick by his collar. Breakfast has disappeared? Not if you yell for Mitaka to bring you a plate.”

Ben nodded. “Right. I’m…Ben, by the way.” He wasn’t sure why he felt so nervous—he introduced himself to people in a business capacity nearly five times a day. Yet, for someone that maybe could be a _friend_ , it was a daunting task.

“Well, welcome to Naboo Ben. I’m Mace,” his new friend explained, pausing as Mitaka approached their table and set down two identical plates of food. It certainly wasn’t filled with the greasy, sugary garbage Ben had planned on eating, but the sight of eggs, bacon, and toast was good enough. Amusingly, Mace offered a short thank you and glared at Mitaka until he disappeared. Only when the AI man hurried off did he look back to Ben. “I haven’t seen you around. Today your first day?”

Ben nodded slowly and ate a bite of eggs, taking a moment to figure out why he had kept himself to only egg whites for almost a decade. “Yeah. I got here last night.” The casual manner in which they spoke about his death had him on edge.

“How’d you buy it?” Mace asked, not bothered by the conversation in the slightest. “And since you apparently didn’t know about your avatar selection, I take it you died young.”

He cleared his throat and glanced at his plate, watching as a slice of butter melted onto his toast. He hadn’t eaten butter in _years_. “Uh, yeah. I was hit by a car.” He paused for a moment, wondering how much he wanted to share with Mace, before adding, “I honestly forgot that I was signed up for this.”

At his words, Mace snorted and leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms in a familiar way that yet again had Ben thinking of his father. “You _forgot_ that you signed up for R.E.V.I.V.A.L? What type of trust fund baby are you?”

Ben looked down, his cheeks heating in embarrassment. “My mother signed us up but—” he shook his head, not willing to follow that train of thought. Not yet, anyways. “What about you? How long have you been here for?”

Mace hummed and ate a forkful of eggs. “Well, about a month ago I celebrated my fifth R.E.V.I.V.A.L day. So, a little more than five years,” He smiled thoughtfully at the memory, before adding, “Minus the early fucking breakfast time, this place has been good to me.”

It was a bit of a relief to hear someone having a good experience in Naboo, but it certainly wasn’t enough to quench most of the anxiety rolling around in his stomach. “So you…” He bit at his lip, struggling to voice his concerns, “You like it here? You don’t want to go back to your life before?”

Mace laughed, the sound so deep and surprising that Ben actually tensed. “Do I want to go _back_? Kid, have you lost your fucking mind?”

“Uh—”

But clearly, Mace wasn’t finished. “I died at ninety-five. You got that? I was five years short of living for a full ass century.” He shook his head, clearly getting sucked up in his memories, “And my life wasn’t easy—mind you. I grew up poor, and lived through discrimination, fought in two wars—I lost my right hand in Geonosis—and everything after that was just working and saving and doing anything just to get along.”

He paused, eating another forkful of eggs, before continuing. “And when I finally was old enough to retire, and had a nice nest of money saved up, I was too fucking old to do anything. My knees didn’t work, my eyes were bad—in the end, my mind worked just fine, but the rest of me didn’t.”

Mace looked around the dining room, smiling fondly. “So on my ninety-fifth birthday, when I couldn’t fry myself up an egg let alone wipe my own ass, I decided I was done. I started my R.E.V.I.V.A.L process and now I get to do the things I always wanted to do but couldn’t. There’s no job, no man I owe my day to, nothing—I’m _free_.”

Ben swallowed and nodded; his eyes locked on his half-empty plate. Suddenly, he wasn’t in the mood to finish the rest of his breakfast. “That’s nice—I’m glad you’re happy but—this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

“Death never is, kid.”

Shaking his head, Ben continued on. “No, not even death. Yeah, obviously I didn’t want to fucking get hit by a car at 34 and die, but I mean the _after_. Isn’t death supposed to bring peace?”

Mace crossed his arms. “That’s what this place exists for. To bring peace. You have an opportunity to do the things you never could before.” He watched Ben, his eyes knowing, “Look, I always wanted to play in a softball league. It was something I enjoyed. And I did, for a few years, before I was drafted. Then I lost a hand. And I thought—well, I’ll just learn to do this with one hand—and even if that _had_ been an option, I worked too much. I didn’t have the time, let alone the energy.” He smiled fondly and shook his head. “So, you wanna guess what the first thing I did was when I got here?”

Ben pursed his lips. “You joined a softball league?”

“No, motherfucker, I gave myself a right hand and made myself fifty years younger.”

At Ben’s bewildered face, Mace laughed. “ _Then_ I joined the softball league.”

“Why forty-two?” Ben asked, unable to hide his curiosity, “Why not twenty-five? Or thirty?”

Mace just smiled. “I figured shit out at forty-two. Got my heart broken. Bought my first house. It was when I earned the wisdom I wished for. So, it seemed like a natural fit.” He watched Ben, seeming to notice his hesitance. “Look, kid, the first few weeks are rough, even if you accept this place with open arms. But aren’t there things you’ve always wanted to do?”

Were there? Ben closed his eyes for a moment, trying to imagine what his softball league was. Would he fly like his father? Knit like his mother? Paint like his uncle? Did he want to run a triathlon, or renovate a home, or learn a new language?

Yet, no matter how hard he thought, he drew a blank. Because from the moment he could talk, he had a one-track mind. His childhood was about doing well enough in school to get into an Ivy League college. His college years were about graduating at the top of his class and entering a top company. His adult years were about rising the ranks of said top company.

He didn’t have time in his life for anything else.

He felt slightly nauseated as he glanced back at Mace. “No, not really.”

Mace just rolled his eyes. “Stubborn little rich kid, aren’t you? Look, take it from me—there’s shit to do.” He leaned closer to Ben, a glint in his eyes, “First, getting drunk is unreal. All of the perks, none of the bad side effects. I haven’t gotten a single hangover in _years_.” He whistled, before adding, “Not to mention the sex. Unreal. With revivals, it’s fucking amazing—and I’ve heard even with people back home, it’s pretty fucking good too.”

Ben blinked. He couldn’t remember the last time he had sex.

“Just give it a chance.” Mace finished his breakfast and dropped his utensils to his plate, creating a rather loud clank. He eyed Ben, his face turning serious. “But listen, if you can’t figure your shit out here, this is another option.”

“Another option?” Ben asked, feeling the need to keep his voice quiet, as if they were discussing something forbidden. And given Mace’s serious face, Ben was starting to think maybe it was.

Mace nodded and leaned closer. “At the edge of the town, by the main forest, there’s a torrent of data. It’s where the R.E.V.I.V.A.L system inputs all of its code. The programmers have some fancy name for it, but us revivals just call it Starkiller,” he explained, his voice laced with warning, “Sometimes, the folks that are missing their families and their old lives go a bit nuts and jump into it. They think it’ll bring them back to the real world.”

“Does it?” Ben couldn’t help but ask, practically on the edge of his seat as he listened to Mace.

But the other man snorted. “No, of course not. It blows them to bits.” Mace leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms, “So if you decide you really hate this fucking beautiful paradise, there’s your out.”

Ben swallowed and watched as Mace stood up. He fixed his jacket with a hum and eyed Ben. “Look, kid, join me for poker and drinks with the boys when you have your mind in the right place. But first, I suggest you figure out what you’re so scared of. Plenty of revivals want to go back to their old lives because they miss loved ones. But if you have nothing in that world, why the hell wouldn’t you want to enjoy this one?”

With a wave of his hands, the man strolled off, only pausing to shove a Mitaka—this one equipped with cleaning supplies—before disappearing into the elevator.

Ben looked back out the window, taking in the greenery. Mace—and based on her morning advice, Kira—were right. He needed to at least _try_. He didn’t fancy himself a quitter, especially without giving something his all.

So, with a new resolve, he rose to his feet and strolled out of his building for the first time.

-x-x-x-

If Mace was right about anything, it was certainly Naboo’s beauty. The world was filled with lush greenery, a stunningly beautiful and massive lake, and deep forests of waterfalls and other natural beauties. The architecture was reminiscent of ancient Rome but filled with all of the amenities of the modern world. As he walked along the cobblestone streets, he allowed himself to be awed by the expansive villas, stunning lake views, and the particularly massive building in the town center. According to the digital map he was able to pull up on his wrist band, it was designed to look like a palace, but actually held a four-story library.

And since Ben was a nerd, and quite overwhelmed, he started there. The inside took him back to his four years at Harvard, and his exchange semester at Oxford, and all of the opportunities he had in life to explore the beautiful libraries of the old world. He wandered in and out of sections, wondering if maybe this change could be good for him. He certainly had a list of classics that he had always wanted to read but never touched.

He always wanted to learn Italian. And Japanese. His French certainly needed some work after probably five years without use. He could pick calligraphy up again, maybe write a letter—

He stopped walking, staring at a display of archeology books, entire volumes on how to treat artifacts, where to find them, and where the next great cultural treasure would be located.

Ben immediately left the library, his hands in fists.

All of this was fucking stupid. Why would he learn Italian or Japanese? It wasn’t like he could _go_ to either of the countries where the languages were used. Why would he pick calligraphy up again? It wasn’t like he could send a letter to people in the real world—of course, it wasn’t like there was anything he would even want to. Why would he read up on archeology? It wasn’t like he could enter a dig site and find the lost king of Egypt or the missing key to the Mayan civilization.

In a huff, he ran down the massive stone steps of the library, unsure of what to do next. His eyes landed on the rows of shops and other oddities. His stomach relaxed slightly at the sight of familiar clothing stores—the shops ranging from the chains found in suburban malls, all the way to the same high-end stores he purchased tailor-made suits from. The grocery store sat beside an indoor market, with AI vendors selling anything from cheese wheels to artisans meats. As a result, revivals strolled out with bags full of both sugary cereals and blocks of artisan parmesan.

Beside the shops were other oddities—facilities with rock-climbing walls and batting cages, a movie theater that looked straight out of an old film, a pottery studio, an ice-skating rink, and the list could go on. Ben walked over, stopping in front of the one shop that caught his eye. Mysteriously called _The Earth View_ , the windows of the shop showed various white cubes. But, with the shut door and no patrons wandering about, he had no idea what he was looking at.

“Do you have questions, Mr. Solo?” A voice asked.

Ben jumped back and turned around. Standing by the door was a friendly blonde woman, who based on her smile and uniform, was mostly certainly the AI that worked at the store. It was going to take him awhile to get used to everyone knowing his name.

“Uh, yeah. What is this?” He asked.

The woman smiled. “ _The Earth View_ is a fully immersive digital experience that allows you to feel right at home with your friends and family in the real world. By making a reservation, _The Earth View_ will prepare each cube to your requested personalization. If you join your family for Sunday night dinner, we’ll set the room to look just like your loved ones’ table. It’s as if you’re really there!”

Ben cleared his throat and stepped back. “Oh. That’s nice.”

“Would you like to make a reservation? Our new technology allows us to mimic water if you would like to join your family or friends for a day at the pool or the beach!”

He was really starting to feel ill. “No. I’m good.”

Before the friendly AI could try to sell him on a reservation any further, Ben took off, navigating through the bustling streets. It was frustrating how perfect everything was too—the streets had just enough people to not look creepily empty, but just few enough that he didn’t need to elbow people to get around.

Was this place paradise or some creepy utopia that he never asked to enter?

Unsure of what else to do, he wandered around, desperately trying to figure out what would make him happy in that moment. Pathetically, he realized that the only thing he did in his free time was exercise, and given his anger issues, that was more about tension relief than actual enjoyment.

Nothing sounded fun. He had no desire to make friends. He didn’t want to read a book, or watch a movie, or play a sport, or make a fucking pot out of clay—

Before he knew it, hot tears were streaming down his face.

He was thirty-four and he had nothing but money in the bank and a job that was no longer his. He thought back to Kira’s recommendation to call people with a gape in his chest. He had no one who fucking cared. Who was there? He had no friends. He didn’t like any of his co-workers, not enough to communicate with them outside of a work setting.

And his family? Well, they were dead. Only his Uncle Luke remained, and he only communicated with him on Christmas and his birthday out of respect for his mother.

Now, he sat around with all the money in the world and free time at his fingertips and he felt nothing but dread.

With the sound of his heartbeat in his ears, he nearly missed the fizzling sound of electricity. Ben wiped at his cheeks, the hot tears coating his hands, before looking around where he sat. Perhaps half a mile away was a giant whirlwind of fizzing computer code, so large and wild that it almost resembled a tornado that was stuck in one place.

This must have been what Mace was referring to. What the other revivals called Starkiller.

Ben swallowed and gingerly rose to his feet. Before he knew it, he was walking towards the torrent, the fizzing noise like a siren call that he simply couldn’t ignore.

Death was meant to bring peace. Ben had been searching for peace for his entire life.

He was barely in control. Suddenly, his cautious walk turned into a full-blown run. Starkiller got closer and closer, the fizzing noise growing louder with every step he took. He finally felt like he had an answer.

Until a brunette appeared before him, stopping his run with her hand against his chest. She was certainly a looker, with soft brown hair tied into three perfect buns on the back of her head, her freckled cheeks glowing in the sunlight. In stark contrast to the green and blue scenery, she wore a delicate white romper, the V-shape showing some of the golden skin of her chest, and a beige jean jacket, which paired with the strappy brown sandals on her feet. She stared at him; her hazel eyes furious.

“What in the _bloody hell_ do you think you’re doing?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't mind me writing Mace as all other Samuel L. Jackson characters nbd
> 
> Check out my website if you want to know more about me and my writing: 
> 
> [jdarcybooks.com](https://www.jdarcybooks.com/)   
> 


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